Home for a year!

A year ago, today, I boarded a South African airways flight from Joburg (as the locals say) , South Africa to New York. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Vividly.
It was a beautiful sunny day and I was filled with mixed emotions. I was ready to come home- to see my family, my own room again and as much Mexican food as I wanted but I was sad to leave a continent that ha seeped into my veins, into my blood.

I spent my last day getting last minute souvenirs for myself and friends. I got a ride from my couchsurfer’s roommate to downtown Melville, a hip area of Joburg. I throw on jeans and my cozy red Splashy Fen sweatshirt, which I bought a month before at the music festival. I decided against a purse and put my money in my, phone and camera in my pocket. The power was out (a all too common occurrence in South Africa) but many shops were still open. Locals had become used to the power issues that plauged (s) the country. I enjoyed browsing the bookshops for last minute South African novels and then browsed curios sold on the street. There weren’t as many people selling as I’d hope but I made do.
The day passed quickly and before I knew it, I was walking back to the apartment to gather my pack for a ride to the airport. I even remember my driver, a big guy from French Congo, who had lived a few years in England, had met a woman, had a child and was now living in South Africa, where the economy was better with more opportunity.

I spent a while in the airport. Chatted with a few people. Browsed the souvenir shops. The airport felt like I could be anywhere. I stood in line to board my flight and I struck up conversation with a Sengalese man ( we did have a stop over in Senegal). He was happy to learn of my 9 months in Africa experiencing cultures, food, the wonderful people. No surprise, he found some paper and a pen and wrote his email for me. I chuckled to myself (typical) and thanked him as I wished him a good flight.

I waited for the tears to flow. The plane took off and I stared out the window. Tears dripped down my face. So many emotions and yet uncertain how I felt. I knew then as I do now, I’ll return. I just don’t know when. Africa will be a place I continue to go back to, once you step on African soil, there is no going back. It’s now in my blood!

It’s hard to imagine a year has passed. It feels like yesterday. Thankfully for memories, it can be just like yesterday.

Yet it’s a reminder to enjoy what you’re doing today because time passes by all too quickly.

Enjoy each day. Live life how you envision. Change what isn’t working. Acknowledge what your grateful for. Go with your flow. See where you go.

An orange for the day

While enjoying the sunshine talking with friends in a quaint neighborhood in Oakland, a woman approached us and asked, “Can you help me get some hot food?” I replied, “I can give you an orange.” Assuming if she’s really hungry, almost any food would suffice. Instead, she retorted, “Is it hot?” I’m sure my mouth was wide open, shocked at her audacity to come over and ask strangers to help her get hot food and have attitude when offered fruit.

Why is she entitled to other people’s money to buy food at one of the cafe’s?

I forget mental illness likely plays a role.

She wandered away after my offer and chatted with a distinguished man who was sitting on a bench nearby. I watched her wander around asking strangers to help her get food as she munched on jellybeans and randomly talked to passerbyers and to no one in particular about chicken tacos, pollo, pollo tacos as if speaking in Spanish may trigger a different response. She had a newspaper in one hand and a tote back on her right shoulder. With each person, whom she talked to she marked something down as if tallying each person she asked.

This woman distracted me. Friends and I were talking about an array of deep topics including, foreign aid and micro-finance lending in developing countries. We were getting ready to leave and she came over and said bluntly, “Don’t forget about my orange!” “I thought you didn’t want it, you walked away,” I said. “I was talking with my friend Jose.” I handed her the orange. “Thank you, this is the first thing I’ve eaten today (it was 3pm) aside from the jellybeans.” “You very welcome and off I went to cross the street. As I waited for the green light, she said “Thank you” a few more times and I honored her thanks. It was nice to hear words of gratitude yet was reminded why I always hesitate with handing out money but I’ll always part with food if I have it.

While staying in Cape Town, South Africa, both in 2005 and in 2007, I witnessed story telling begging frequently. I rarely saw a person with a sign asking for money but rather a sad story of why they needed some money. One benefit of staying in a place for a while (rather than passing through) is you see daily interactions, shops opening and closing, how morning fades into night and who are the regulars on the street. I lived a block away from Long St and later stayed at a hostel on Long St itself, which is the busiest and most touristy of streets in Cape Town. I had children ask me for money and an anxious young woman ask me for 50 cents for the bus, though we weren’t near a bus stop. My heart went out to her because the anxiousness in her voice made me think how I might be in her shoes. Yet I said, “Sorry” and continued on to the store. I questioned myself, hoping I’d never have to ask a complete stranger for money and hoping, if I did, someone would willingly give. A day later, I saw the same woman with the same turquoise tote, on a different street pushing past people telling the same story, “I need 50 cents to catch the bus.” A few days later, she asked me the same question as I walked by, though I ignored her. She still had an anxiousness about her and I can only imagine the bus money is really code for drugs. Obviously, this is her trademark story and it works most of the time, especially in a frequented tourist city. There’s a reason she wanders the streets almost daily asking for the same thing. Locals learn quickly whose who. As a traveler staying in a place for a while, I quickly learn too.

We always get to choose how we want to respond to people asking for money and I’ve learned you can never really know where the money is going. Maybe it doesn’t matter, yet the the bigger issue becomes, by giving money are we helping individuals stay on the street?

Certainly, this is a bigger equation with multiple variables…

She’s not the only person I encountered who was lying for money. Each time my heart momentarily placed myself in their shoes but I stopped myself from giving.

Now, I’ve taken what I’ve experienced abroad and apply it here. If you’re hungry and ask for my leftovers I’m carrying, I’ll gladly give them away or if I have food to spare, I’ll share. This is how I know if someone is telling the truth. If you’re hungry, you’re not picky!

Living simply yet occasionally wanting something new

A benefit of being on the road for a long time is living simply with minimal items, including clothing. Yet after such a long wearing the same few items with a few variations, I was excited to return to a dresser and closet filled with clothing.  There was no need to buy clothing because I had more clothing than I knew what to do with. I gravitated towards a handful of shirts and seemed to wear them often, just as I had other shirts while on the road. Habit and comfort.  However, I’ve been feeling a want for something new. I’ve swapped clothing with friends and mixed and matched items in my closet for new creations but I’m left wanting something more yet I feel a swash of guilt.

I saw men and women in Africa take great pride in their clothing. Always clean and hand scrubbed. Some shirts were so well worn to the point of making them holey and they continued to wear their shirts with mini holes because I can only assume, they didn’t have much else nor money to buy a used shirt at the market.

How can I want more when I have a slew of clothing in my drawer (even if it’s from a few years ago)? I feel guilty yet I know I live in a different country, virtually a different world. How do I seperate myself without fully ignoring what I’ve witnessed and experienced. What I always come around too is not buying new clothing does not mean the poverty stricken man in half way across the world is now clothed. It’s more the issue, I feel I should be content with all I had yet sometimes I want something new and I wish I didn’t. Should’t I feel content? Not want things?

It helps talking with friends who can relate as they’ve experienced similar feelings themselves. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

It’s nice to have new items every now and again. I need to let go and enjoy. I’ve just become more conscientious. I find it difficult to wrap my mind around a $32 t-shirt because I do the math and think how many t-shirts that can be at another store… but then again, it’s not always about quantity.

Oh boy. The dilemmas travels can bring.

One step at a time

I’m surprised when I think about how I was traveling in Cape town, South Africa a year ago. Reaching Cape town in May 2008 represented the finish line of my dream-  traveling local transport from East Africa to the bottom of South Africa- one end of the continent!   Yet, March- May I contemplated endlessly over my plans and what came next of my adventure. Should I extend my visa by paying the $50 fee at Home Land Affairs or cross the border for a few days? What about working? And meeting people? If I’m going to give a chance of staying in South Africa, I surely want to meet people and create a home base away from home, a community.  Thoughts raced through my mind over and over. I can recall processing 10 steps ahead while on a gorgeous but strenuous 5 day hike. In the end, all my questioning and wondering seemed pointless because I never made it to step 2 before I changed course. I hung around Cape town, meet some locals but I realized I was burnt out and staying in a gorgeous country when my heart really needed to be home means I must go home. And home I went (after another month of exploring).   Life has it’s ways. I learned the long way: over- thinking doesn’t make a decision easier, it just makes me more confused and a bit mental.  A lesson for life, a lesson on the road.

On the road, I was always planning and deciding what came next out of habit and necessity. No one else was going to make decisions for me.  I like having a general plan. I surprised  myself while talking with my mom about my new jobs. When she asked, what’s my long term plan for work and where I see myself in a few years? I replied, ” I haven’t thought that far.”  I wondered if I should know, have  better response; a pla. But I felt calm and happy. For the first time in a while, I haven’t thought 10 steps ahead. I’m just going with what I’m doing and enjoying the moment.

Lucky me, I have the opportunity to do exactly what I want. I’m allowing life to lead me and it’s a satisfying feeling. I haven’t gotten ahead of myself and right now, I wouldn’t wish it any other way.

My journey in Africa inspired thoughts and realizations, which lead me to my work now and I know my current work will lead me further on my path of what I’m meant to do. Trusting and letting go. A difficult task yet powerful!
I didn’t make the connection of how my attitude of planning has c hanged until I talked with a friend on Skype (whom I met in Africa) who is teaching English in South Korea. She’s struggling with the variations of living in another culture with the added questions of: “What do I want to do with my life” and “what do I pursue when I return” equation.  I can relate, I asked, struggled and fought the same questions while on the road. Traveling brings a level of uncertainty, awareness and realizations and it’s easy to get ahead of yourself and try to figure out what comes next when the travel or living abroad ends.  I know I thought way too much about what came next and sometimes wasn’t allowing myself to be in the moment. Silly, really. In hindsight, I realize everything I experienced on the road has lead me to where I am now in my life.

I’m not worrying or thinking too much about something I can’t control. Occasionally, I think ahead but I remind myself everything will work out and money will be aplenty. Maybe, I’m not thinking 10 steps ahead because I’m so consumed with my new jobs or maybe I finally learned the valuable lesson to let things go and see what happens.

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Appreciating daily interactions

When people hear I traveled for 9 months, naturally, many our intrigued. Then, they typically ask, “What did you do? What were you doing”

They wonder, “Were you volunteering, working or interning?

“No, I was traveling,” I respond.

Curiosity beckons and they inquire, “How did you fill your time?”

I’m always slightly thrown off as memories flood in of various days and experiences I had throughout my journey. Sure, in the beginning I stayed in a small, Westernized town of Moshi, for 6+ weeks as I enjoyed having a “home” base as I pondered my next step. While in Moshi, I often spent  my days talking, writing emails at the internet cafe, hand washing my clothing and enjoying the simplicity of daily activity. While staying in Moshi at the Kilimanjaro Backpackers travelers were surprised to hear I was staying for more than a few days and didn’t possess an itineary.

I did have the luxury of time on my side but ultimately the questioning and curiosity shows how focused Westerners are in the need to always define and establish a purpose for everything we do. My intention to go to Africa to experience and witness other countries with my own eyes was exactly what I did. Yet this isn’t readily understood or necessarily accepted.

I wasn’t being paid nor getting university credit . Nor was I setting out to document a film, write a book or intern with an organization. I simply wanted to further my understanding and enrich my experience. My journey doesn’t fit a proscribed label.

Some days I was relaxing on the beach and reading a book or talking to locals, travelers, or volunteers; while other days I was in transit squashed with Africans en route to a new destination with bags heaped on our laps. Regardless of where I was or what I was doing (or not doing), everyday I  was: participating, engaging, observing, talking, learning, experiencing, formulating new ideas and theories, gaining understanding, learning history, politics, cultural differences and traditions, and daily life and interaction.

Living. Living in the moment.

I was full of awareness and new ideas. I may not have been filling my time with activities or touristy things but some of my best days were ones where I spent my afternoon talking at the backpackers with other guests and employees (who felt like my sisters and brothers) and being surprised how morning easily drifted into mid afternoon. Walking down the street and engaging in conversation with the woman selling  mangoes or talking with the Muslim man who owned a little restaurant selling the best samosas I’ve ever tasted and fresh squeezed passion fruit juice. I enjoyed my daily visits to his shop and sharing his place with other travelers who thought from appearances, the food would be too expensive, even though it was a place frequented by locals. Stepping into the food prep area because I was intrigued how the women made delicious passion fruit juice daily- slicing, squeezing, screening, removing pulp- not the easiest task but yet they did it effortlessly. A sip of juice and I instantly had a smile on my face.

It’s the little things. Daily life. Conversations and interactions are my fondest memories of my travels and in my life,  no matter where I am. I notice now that I’m home, societal pressures and obligations, can make me feel conflicted with the idea I “should” always be doing “something.” I went against this very notion on my travels and I strive to incorporate this into my life now. Why is it that a conversation in a hostel for several hours is part of the expereince of being on the road but if I talk with someone who lives in Tanzania through instant messenger on the comforts of my couch in the middle of the day, somehow I feel guilty?  As if I need to be “doing something”  more productive or producing money or other goods, when I feel good and satisfied having a great conversation.

Value. What’s important to you? What do you value?

Now I simply need to honor my values and the society in which I live and go forth. Create the to-do list, if I must but not abide by it. Allow spontaneity and opportunities to come into my life and not worry about what hasn’t been done or needs to get done. Hakuna Matata, as they say in Kiswahili, Don’t worry.  One day at a time. pole pole, Slowly, slowly. Pure wisdom.

Documentary- One day in Africa

I came across this recent interview on vagablogging about Brook Silva- Braga, documentary film maker of,  A Map for Saturday, about his new film,  One day in Africa. If you haven’t had the chance to see A map for Saturday I highly suggest it if you’re itching to travel or curious what it’s like to pack up your bags and hit the road for an extended amount of time.

His philosophy behind the film is great and I appreciate his willingness to really understand and appreciate Africa. From my own experience in Africa, most people don’t go to the continent purely for travel and exploration but rather a purpose such as teaching, volunteering or interning and many who do travel are there for such a short time, it can be hard to really grasp what’s going on and why.  I love his idea for shadowing a person for a day in different countries without focusing on the  negatives the continent is so often known for.

I can also relate to the “safety” issue.  People I share my story with are always very surprised I felt so safe and nothing happened to me. Recently, an elderly woman said I must have had “good karma” to be able to travel for 9 months without any problem. I appreciate the thought (considering she doesn’t know me) but I know it’s more than just having positive energy and heaps of common sense. To not acknowledge all the wonderful people I encountered is to discredit the locals who make each African country unique. If the people were bad or with ill intent, no matter how much “good karma” I had, I would have had a lot of problems. This is a great reminder of why the media isn’t the greatest for understanding another country and is one of the very reasons I set of on my trip in the first place: to be an eye witness on the continent without any filters or lenses.

He also highlights the Westernization of Africa. I noticed it too and now feel more confused about the complex issue of globalization, foreign aid and volunteering. Does it help? Hinder?  The answer is neither black or white, depends on each situation and is quite complex!

Fear

Life has been a roller coaster ride since returning home. Bumpy, curvy, sideways, upside down, over and up and down and it has yet to  let up. The speed changes constantly but there’s no chance of the coaster slowing down just enough for me to get off. In the end, it’s exactly how it needs to be. At every new curve, I gain more awareness and new direction on where I’d like to go, where I’d  like to be.  I finally feel I have more control and new ideas for what I’d like in my life and more specifically, what I’d like to be doing.  Yet just when I feel comfortable enough to put my arms in the air for the upcoming drop; something changes, stalls or completely disappears. I’m getting closer and closer to the goal but I’m not quite there yet.

I strongly believe in the power of thoughts and creating what I have in my life.  Recently, I thought everything was falling into place and then something changes. I’m beginning to realize something may be missing in my thought pattern? How I can get so close and then (paid) opportunities don’t pan out? Sure, there not meant to be and I definitely believe it but how much of it is the opportunity is not right vs. my thoughts and fears influencing the outcome. Though, I do have to say a few volunteer opportunities have been turning up and I couldn’t be more excited. I acknowledge them and am ever so grateful. It’s only been a few months since I’ve had more concrete ideas and direction so it’s only a matter of time before it all falls into place. Deep down, I know everything so far has been for the best even if it doesn’t seem so in the moment.

Recent circumstances lead me to a long, emotional and much needed discussion, though I had no idea where it would lead or uncover so much.  My biggest fear resurfaced- a fear I was strongly aware of a month into my African journey. What am I going to do when I return home?  What about a career?  What do I want to do with my life? All the typical and important questions we all face at some point after college or mid twenties. Heck, I’m sure its a continual question, especially for us travelers who are more lifestyle focused. But more importantly, the question is: What’s my new dream? What comes next? Eight months home and I have yet to confront and tackle my fear, which is why it still lingers! Facing fear is half the battle, repressing or ignoring is another.

A month into my journey, I felt I was destined to come home between holidays, homesickness and feeling everyone I met on the road advised me “Africa is not safe for a woman traveling alone.” I was determined to prove to myself I could handle all the challenges, but more importantly I wondered, what the heck would I do when I returned?

My dream was to travel Africa and I had no idea what else I’d do. I figured a new dream would take shape eventually but until then, I couldn’t just return home when the road became too difficult or could I? I grappled with the concept but knew I’d regret packing my bags and not giving my dream a full chance. My uncertainty and lack of a new dream sustained me and encouraged me to press on, in the most challenging of circumstances but as with any good story I was able to rise above and meet people who shaped my journey just when I needed them to complete my dream.

New ideas and dreams are taking shape but like most dreams, they need time and patience to be fully realized.  Through my continual transition I’m realizing I expect I should know what I want and then be able to attain it, forgetting sometimes it’s best to jump in and learn to swim than waiting at the pool’s edge for the opportune time.  There is no outlined path. There isn’t a right or wrong way. I assume I should have life all figured out and just be able to flow into life-with a great job, new place, wonderful friends- easily after such a long time away. Truth is, transitioning isn’t an easy feat and it’s a constant process.

I just got to throw myself into the world again, let go of my comfort zone (home) and give living on my own in the “real world” a try. What’s the worst that can happen? I know the worst isn’t so bad.

Planting seeds

The past few weeks have caught me in an unsuspected whirlwind of activity and I couldn’t be more grateful. Life has  picked up speed and I’m enjoying the ride. So why a sudden change?

I’ve decided to follow my interests and passions while trying to throw my worries, hesitations and cautions to the wind. Putting stress and concerns aside is challenging but worth every effort in the short and long term.  Letting go in every way is the hardest part but I find when I stop trying to control and predict the future, life is a lot easier.  I’ve been identifying my new goals, dreams and ideas and trying to put societal and/or family expectations aside and it’s making all the difference.

While in South Africa, I was disappointed to rarely see  amazing first grade produce available in grocery stores and to the typical consumer. Almost all first grade produce is picked and immediately exported to countries willing to pay the highest price. Unfortunately, every equation involving products and consumers ends with whose offering the most money. Yet food production is a bit more complex and the end result shouldn’t simply be about money, or at least the people receiving the most profit are not necessarily the ones most deserving or hardest working.

I promised myself, when I returned home, I’d read Michael Pollan’s account of the US farming industry and food production in The Ominvores’s Dilemma. He’s insightful and educational with a dose of humorous commentary to highlight the politics and greed in feeding America. Now that I’m in the middle of reading it, I’m happy to know it was available in many book store shelves in South Africa as well as Barbara Kingsolver’s, wonderful account of living for a year on her families farm in rural Vermont and living within the seasons and eating what’s available from their farm and neighboring farmers, limiting their food access to 100 mile radius.   A great book worth the read for the curious on if its possible or you want a better understanding of what it means to eat locally and seasonally,  having your own garden/farm and inspiration to eat more sustainably.  It’s easier than you think.

After several months of uncertainty-wanting to know what’s next yet wanting to be ready for anything- a friend suggested I get involved with local gardens since I kept having the dream to find a place similar to Bulungula lodge. I hesitated rattling on about not knowing what I was going to do and I didn’t want to Commit if I could potentially be leaving at any moment. Except weeks and months kept passing me by and not too much was happening and I realized, maybe she had a point. I had to start somewhere. While researching something for herself pertaining to gardening, she forwarded me a list of helpful links and the rest sort of fell into place.  I searched further and found a nearby community garden wanting volunteers so on impulse  I emailed both contacts listed and inquired. Both contacted me within a few hours and within a few days, I was given a tour of the garden by the Master Gardener. It felt so natural to be in the garden. I’d found my place.  I don’t have a set schedule. I show up when I can or when the gardener tells me he’ll be there. I love when he’s there because I learn an incredible amount every time and we always seem to have random discussions about the food industry or what’s really important in life.

Working alongside someone whose passionate about what they know and so willing to share inspires me. He started the garden2 years ago and spends countless hours maintaining it- weeding, planting, building planter boxes, composting, watering and creating new innovative methods. He even hosts free workshops as a way to share and give back to the community.

When I’m in the garden, I’m reminded to follow my heart. Life is easier this way.

Detached from city life

my sentiment of the city by the bay- San Francisco- has changed. I dreamed of living in the city, sharing a flat with roommates and having a favorite cafe and neighborhood restaurant I’d frequent often. Over the years my knowledge of the city has grown, knowing a variety of places to eat, hang out and spend the evening dancing the night away. The city  has become so familiar I know how to navigate from one side to the other even in areas I rarely spend time in.

Upon returning to California, I was excited to spend more time in the city, find new locales and fun spots and up until  a few weeks ago, I took every chance I got. I met new people, checked out parades, festivals and music events- all typical and off the map San Franciscan festivities. I feel at this point, I’ve experienced almost every SF event.

On no particular recent time in SF, I noticed the magical feel I’ve being in the city had disappeared. My heart didn’t dance with joy and my enthusiasm didn’t shine. Being in SF, just felt like, well,  normal, typical, everyday, no longer exceptional and exciting. This feeling began a few weeks ago and it’s lingered. I have friends in the city so still have and motivation to go and spend time with them but my eagerness to “be in the city” has dissipated. Why do I feel detached? Would I feel more excited to be in a new city? Do I long for the feeling of  discovery a new place brings? Or has my tolerance for crowds, skyscrapers and traffic altered my feelings and no matter what urban city I was in, I’d feel the same way?

Certainly while I was on the road I became more appreciative of the Bay Area and all the amazing opportunities here, beautiful places to see and now it’s just the same for me. I appreciate the vibe, the laid-back attitude and the freedom and flexibility of open-mindedness that is the city.

Yet I think I’m ready to be more outdoors and in touch with nature than urban landscapes. I’ve been remembering a bus ride  from Cambridge to London while living there and realizing as much as I love cities for all the possibilities I could see myself living in the country side, being content around nature and a slower pace of life. Luckily, among suburbia and the city, there are still many open spaces to walk, hike and get lost in the outdoors and temporarily forget where I am. My job search feels very long and in these uncertain times, its only  natural and yet the more time passes and the more opportunities I apply for, I feel closer to knowing what it is I truly want.

Every thing has a reason in life and if this is the reason, then this constant wave of uncertainty will be worthwhile.

For this I’m grateful.

Transitioning is a multi-faceted process

I like to believe my transition home, to California, was relatively smooth and easy but I think I’m just forgetting the difficulties. I was restless after 2 weeks back home so I did what I knew best after 9 months vagabonding in Africa- Travel. I flew to Vancouver to visit a great aunt and had a great time until I arrived in Seattle and stayed with couch surfers who were only semi-hospitable about having me stay. It was a pivoting point for me knowing as much as I love being on the road, the difficulties of being in new places (not knowing anyone, figuring out transport, where to go etc), isn’t worth the effort when I’m burnt out.

Five months later I feel adjusted being home but am I? I’m looking the job market dead in the eye. I didn’t think too much of it a few months ago, assuming when I felt ready I’d apply to a few interesting places and Ta-Da, I’d land a nice job. My fantasy of job searching has yet to manifest in everyday life in this downturn economy. “Remotely interesting” has become my minimal criteria for applying but it’s forced me to think beyond my intentions- moving to San Francisco, having roommates and having a decently paid job in a beautiful city.

On the road, I witnessed variations of off the beaten path opportunities and I embraced it fully. Until I returned home. The freedom and the lifestyle I love by being on the road seems to be lost o me and I’ve temporarily forgotten my own philosophy- “defying convention.” I’ve taken on traditional ways of living and earning an income but secretly know there are alternatives, many I’d be apt to try.

I’ve had the dream of volunteering on a farm, since my return but I keep pushing the idea to the far corners of my mind. WWOOF is the perfect network to work on a farm with room and board in exchange, but I’m assuming fluffing the bank account is a smarter decision so I have freedom when an opportunity or idea strikes. What I really hoped for was to work on a sustainable lodge in California similar to a place I stayed for a week in South Africa- Bulungula lodge . My google searches haven’t proven successful but I have stumbled across farm apprenticeships and the more I contemplate, the more it seems a perfect fit. Yet I’ve initially denied my thoughts thinking any job without a 30+ hr work week was not allowed. But by whose standards?

The economy in shambles may just be a very blessing for me. The lack of career opportunities is allowing me to follow my heart rather than having family and societal ideas influence what I think I SHOULD do.

Transitioning home is more than getting used to big shopping malls and grocery stores with every item imaginable, it’s also about remembering all that you learn on the road and following your intuition.

For all of you, who’ve taken off on a big trip and returned home, I wonder: How was your transition? How long before you started looking for a job? got a job? How did you deal with the should’s vs. the wants? Have you put your travels behind you or on hold? Or are you doing something related to or inspired by your travels?